Role Reversal
by AWESOME.COOKIE
Summary: When the Hunter Castiel went down to Hell after trading his soul to bring his twin brother, Jimmy, back from the dead, he wasn't expecting to crawl back out 4 months later. Reverse!verse. Starts with season 4 and will hopefully go from there. T for obvious reasons. Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, so many characters would come back from the dead.
1. Chapter 1

***Castiel***

It was dark.

This was the first thought that came into my groggy, throbbing head

Next, I did what any logical person would do. I tried to breath. It was significantly harder then I remembered it being. My hands fumbled into the pocket of my trench coat, closing around my lighter and pulling it out. After several attempts, I was able to get a small flame going. I was inside a box, a wooden box.

"Help." My voice was feeble and weak as I tried to speak. "Help." After a few tries, it was obvious that with my voice was never going to reach through this wood. I pushed up against the wood on top of me with both arms. It moved upward ever so slightly, revealing that it was a lid. With a little bit of effort that made my weak muscles (I swear they weren't that weak 40 years ago) start to mumble their protest, I was able to move the lid. Through the hole I created, dirt started to pour in, and the hole was sadly above my face.

From there, I breathed in a deep of air I'm pretty sure was starting to become toxic and pure carbon dioxide, pulling myself through the hole and into the dirt. The mumbles are now starting to become shouts. I clawed my way forward, through the dirt, until my hands were just pawing at open air. Lungs, burning, I pushed myself the rest of the way out, my head breaking through the surface. I opened my mouth and breathed in clean, fresh air. From there I just sort of flopped onto the grass, laying there and sucking in the precious life-giving oxygen, allowing it to travel through my system, before expelling it back out.

Stumbling onto my legs, I finally realized that all the trees around my grave (oh gosh, my _grave_) were all knocked down. In a perfect circle. Like some type of bomb went off right on top of my grave.

* * *

I was thirsty. I was hungry. I was filthy. And standing around my grave, gazing in slightly-fearful awe at the trees, was not going to amount to anything. A couple hours ago I had started walking, finding a road and following it. Finally, I had come across a gas station that looked like it was the absolute definition of deserted.

I knocked on the door, but nobody came to answer and it didn't look as if anybody was inside. Seeing no other option, I wrapped up my hand in a bunch of my coat before punching the glass on the front door. I grabbed the door handle on the other side, unlocking it and opening it.

The first thing I did when I got in was salt all the entry ways. You can never be too careful. Next I went to find the bathroom. It was filthy and old with graffiti all over the place. Quite disgusting really, but it was all that I had at the moment. I shrugged off my trench coat, clogging and filling up the sink before stuffing it in. Next came my other layers (so many layers), dunking them into the luke-warm water. Crawling through dirt had left them covered in, well, dirt. I looked up at one point, only for a moment, before looking back down. And then quickly looking back up, eyes on my shoulder.

A hand print that certainly wasn't there 4 decades ago was seared into my shoulder. My hand ghosted over the brand, gently brushing against the raised skin. I made an effort to calm my starting-to-speed-up heart beat, imagining what could've left that mark on my skin. I pushed it as far back into my mind as I could. Best not to worry about it until there was something I could do about it.

I left my clothes outside in the hot sun to dry out, grabbing a water bottle and chugging it down, water rushing down my parched throat. Next came a granola bar, which I devoured hungrily. I started to wander around the store, my eyes catching on the newspapers. I grabbed one, eyes widening at the date: September, 18 2008. I had only been gone for 4 months?

Grabbing some quarters from the cash register and going out to the pay phone. I first tried to dial my twin brother, Jimmy, but all of his phones (which were a lot) were disconnected or unreachable. The only other person I could think to call was Bobby… this was not going to end well. But I called him up anyway. A ring or two later, he picked up.

"Singer Salvage Yard." Bobby's gruff voice answered.

"It's me."

"Who's me?" I hesitated, but said my name anyway, though I had a few guesses what Bobby would do.

"Castiel Novak." The line went dead. I pulled the phone away, looking at it sadly as if Bobby would somehow get my emotions of sadness from him not believing in me and confusion as to why I was still alive. Yet his response had been expected all the same. With a sad sigh, I dialed again.

"Singer Salvage Yard."

"It's, ah, me again."

"Listen, I'll say this one time, and one time only. If you call me again, I will find you and end you. I don't care what you want from me." And the line once again went dead. I placed the phone back on the hook. Calling was obviously going to get me nowhere, and that meant no help from Bobby until I could convince him it was really me, which will really take more time that I'd like it to.

Grabbing my clothes, which were now dry for the most part, I headed back inside, putting them on. I started to pack up some supplies, stuffing them into a bag I found. Not a lot, just some water bottles, some assorted snack foods, some containers of salt. Nothing more than the necessities.

That's when it happened.

First, the small TV behind the register turned on, featuring a flurry of black and white. I turned it off, only to have the radio turn on, the terrible sound of static being emitted from its speakers. I turned that off too, but I slower this time, careful, my senses suddenly on end. The TV turned back on, the radio following quickly after. This could _not _be good. Before I could do anything about either of the electronics, a small, high-pitched whine. I turned in a slow circle. I had no weapons, no way to defend myself. I saw nothing, but that didn't mean that whatever this thing was wasn't just invisible.

The noise steadily grew louder, increasing in pitch as it did so. Eventually I couldn't stand it anymore. I dropped my bag of supplies onto the ground, using my hands to instead cover my ears in a attempt to block out the noise, which turned out to be absolutely useless. The screech continued to assault my ears, shatter the glass on the windows as it did so.

Then it was gone, like it had never been there. I climbed to my feet (when did I fall onto the ground?) and picked up my bag, once again looking around. Nothing had appeared while I had been on the floor. I decided that, since I was completely unarmed, it best to flee rather than to stay and fight. A haunted gas-station could wait until I was prepared and, more importantly, knew why I was alive.

Outside sat an old van that I was able to hot-wire (it took me a few minutes to remember how to do it, as Jimmy was usually the one that did this sort of thing). There was, thankfully, a nearly full tank of gas inside. Now that I had transportation, I headed to the one place that I had started to become comfortable with, even going as far as starting to call it home, for the last 9 years of his life.

Singer Salvage Yard.

* * *

When Bobby opened the door, he just stood there for a few seconds, staring at me.

"Hi." My voice was still a bit scratchy.

"Castiel…" Bobby's voice was filled with sadness that had developed over the months and disbelief. "How…?"

"I don't know, really." I took a few steps into the door way until I was just barely inside of the house. Then, Bobby did what any sane, smart, educated Hunter that listens to his gut would do. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and swung at me. I ducked underneath his arm, his knife just nicking my shoulder, cutting my trench coat. I darted into the kitchen, Bobby fast on my heels. He lunged at me again, but I grabbed a knife off the counter and used it to block his.

"Bobby, it's really me." I tried, knocking the knife out of his hands.

"Yeah right, and I'm a fairy princess." Bobby simply reached into his pocket, pulling out another knife. Of course.

"Wait, wait, I can prove it." I held up my hands, and Bobby (thankfully) stopped. Lifting the knife in my hands, I pulled back one of my sleeves. I didn't want to do this, but I had little choice if I didn't want to be gutted alive by Bobby. Slowly and deliberately, hissing slightly under my breath, I brought the knife across my arm, leaving a red line that quickly began to fill up with blood.

"Cas, is that… really you?" I sighed with relief, a small smile gracing my lips for the first time since I crawled out of my grave.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

A few minutes later found us sitting at the counter in the kitchen. Bobby filled up a cup of holy water, sliding it across the table to me.

"I'm not a demon Bobby."

"You can never be too careful." Reluctantly, I downed the glass, grimacing at the taste.

"Salt?" Bobby nodded, pleased by my results.

"Puts demons in a world of pain. How are you alive? You were dead for 4 months, your organs were in ribbons. Even if you somehow managed to get back into your body, you should look like crap." I just shrugged not really knowing what to say.

"Believe me, I know that better than anyone. And that's not all Bobby." I started to take off my trench coat, hanging it on the back on my chair.

"So, are you gonna' tell me what's 'not all' or are you just going to strip?"

"It's something I must show you." I finished unbuttoning my shirt and shrugged it off, revealing my shoulder and the hand print burned into it.

"Where did you…?" Bobby's voice trailed off as he walked around the table to me, inspecting the handprint.

"It was there when I got up."

"I've never seen anything that leaves a mark like that. Then again, I've never heard of someone coming up and out of Hell unless they're a demon. Let's worry about that later, after we've told your brother you're alive. And before even that, we need to find him."

"You don't know where he is?" I became worried. Jimmy loved Bobby, he was like his second father. His first was Jim Murphy, who had adopted him. The man used to be a pastor, but found he did the world more being a Hunter.

"Give me a bit of time, he called be just the other day. Was real quiet and sad. All he said was 'I failed', nothing else. Hopefully, I'll be able to track his phone. That is, if he hasn't gotten rid of it or ditched it in some alley."

The next few minutes were quiet, filled with only Bobby working. I made myself busy by making a sandwich from the foods in the fridge. I was halfway done eating it when a sudden thought occurred to me.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Why wasn't I cremated?" Bobby stopped his work and looked over at me before swearing.

"THAT IDJIT!"

"What, what is it?"

"Jimmy, he insisted that we don't burn you. He said…" Bobby looked at, eyes wide as understanding dawned on him "He said you would need your body. Nothing else."

"You think he made a deal?"

"I think that people don't just go walking out of Hell and into bodies that are suddenly completely whole." And then the silence returned as Bobby worked with a renewed energy. I was mentally scolding myself for not realizing that Jimmy would deal. Of course he would. If I were in his position, I would have. As a matter of fact, I did. That's what got us in this mess.

30 minutes or so later, Bobby called out triumphantly.

"Found him!"

I rushed over, looking at the spot on the map that represented where my twin's location was: Augusta, Maine.

"Augusta? What's he doing there?" Augusta wasn't anything special as far as I knew. Just another town in another state of America. Had people that lived there, living normal lives, maybe a hunter or two hidden secretly, keeping a watchful eye out. I'd heard vampires and werewolves would sometimes try to move in, but not any more than I heard about any other places.

"No idea."

* * *

**AwesomeCookie here! Thanks for reading! I'm pretty new to this fandom, and more specifically Supernatural fanfictions (this is my first) so please understand that I will make mistakes, but please tell me when I do! Also, more about what happened _before _Castiel went down to Hell will be revealed as the story goes on.**

**Three things make the world go 'round.**

**Chocolate, love, and reviews.**


	2. Chapter 2

*JIMMY*

I rubbed my eyes and yawned as I got up into a sitting position. My hand fumbled to my bedside table, grabbing my cup and bringing it to my lips. After taking a rather large gulp, I climbed out of the miniature 'heaven-on-earth' and got dressed before heading towards the bacon-y smell coming from the other room

"Morning." Amelia, my girlfriend, greeted me as I entered the small kitchen area of our apartment. She was eating a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. A replica plate sat not too far away.

"Morning." I sat down next to her, pulled the other plate over to me and starting on the toast. Amelia glanced at the clock above the stove and finished her eggs before getting up. She gave me a kiss on the cheek before placing her plate on the counter above the dish washer.

"I'm off to the hospital." Being a nurse, she tended to work odd hours, and many of them, giving her very little free time. But when she got free time, she spent it with me, and I couldn't ask for any more out of her.

"Good luck." I called back, grabbing the newspaper off the table.

"You doing any 'community service' today?" She asked as she grabbed her coat. There had been no way I was going to tell her about the Job. Especially when I have started to contemplate trying to get out of it. So I instead told her I do community service, which really wasn't an all out lie. What I did helped the community.

"Maybe. Love you." Our conversation ended as the door swung closed. Gosh I loved her. And now that she was gone, I flipped the newspaper to the obituaries. Third car crash in 2 weeks, all men. All married, all on the small stretch of road. Might be worth checking out.

Sometime later, I had just about had a case picked out for the next little while when there was a knock at the door. I figured it was probably Amelia, maybe haven forgotten something, and headed to the front door. I think I almost fainted when I was instead greeted a face identical to mine.

"Castiel?" Once the shock of seeing him wore off, I pulled out my knife I kept be me at all times and aimed for his heart. A strong hand reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could make contact though. Bobby's hand.

"I've checked, it's really him." I nodded, not really knowing what else to do my arm and knife dropping uselessly to my side.

"Well, um, come in, come in." A waved them in. A few seconds later, we were at the small table in the kitchen area, and all I could do was stare at Castiel. As a matter of fact, since they came in, I don't think my eyes have left Castiel.

"How are you alive?" I finally broke an awkward silence that had settled in the room.

"That's what we're gonna ask you." Castiel said and did that think where he stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time with a piercing gaze. It's amazing how eyes that are identical to my usually calm and happy eyes could look so… terrifying.

"Wait, you guys… you think I made a deal?"

"We're darn sure you made a deal, especially after what you said." Bobby's gaze was nearly murderous. In a sudden burst of rage, I slammed my hands down on the table, anger coursing through me.

"Well I didn't, okay? I tried dealing for an entire month, I hardly slept! I went to every crossroad I could find, but none of the demons were willing to deal with me. After that, I moved to this apartment," I gestured angrily at the room. "and did a world worth of research. Then, about a week ago, I gave up." My voice cracked as the memory resurfaced. It had been 2 in the morning, the only light in the apartment coming from my laptop as I searched furiously for something to help get Cas back. But then I suddenly just… stopped. I stared at the screen for a few minutes, unmoving. I was out of options. There was nothing I could do. Castiel was really gone for good.

Yet here he was right now, standing in front of me.

"Jimmy…" Cas put a hand on my shoulder.

"Well if you didn't, then who did?" Bobby voiced the question that was on all of our minds. I just shook my head. "Well, whatever it was, we're gonna' need your help. You deserve just as much crap from this as Castiel and I do. Anyway, I've missed you these last few months."

I did my best not to sigh.

"Thanks for coming all the way up here to get me. I'll head to your place in a few hours Bobby. There are some loose ends here that I need to tie up." Bobby nodded and Castiel gave me a smile. I saw him glance over at a picture on the table by the TV of me and Amelia. No doubt he had guessed what my specific loose end was. Bobby made sure to get my new cell phone number before he and Jimmy left not 10 minutes after they had arrived, leaving me alone in my apartment, a part of me happy that my brother was back, while another part silently cried that the Hunter life and yet again called me back to it.

* * *

"You won't _believe _the day I had." Amelia started to rant the minute she entered the door. She walked briskly into the kitchen area, placing her jacket on the coat rack. She abruptly stopped as she saw me sitting at the table. "But not as bad as your apparently."

I supposed I was quite a sight. My hair was a mess from me having run my hands through it throughout the day. My face had been twisted while I thought. The clothes I was wearing were rumpled and, honestly, I probably just oozing sadness.

"What happened?" She asked. I got up and walked over to her, pulling her into a hug.

"I got a lot of work done today." I softly spoke into her ear. "I paid off a few months rent, which is pretty good. I clean and dusted around the house. I swept the floors. I cooked dinner. I even sorted through the pots and pans since I know you hate it when they get all messed up and disorganized."

"Jimmy, what's wrong?" Amelia's voice now held a note of urgency and fear.

"Amelia, you are the best thing that could have happened to me these past months. You found me a broken man, on the last of his will, and who would end up doing something destructive to himself and possible to others if he was left the way he was. You saw that broken man who didn't have enough money to afford an apartment on his own, saw the man he used to be, the type of man he could be again. And you were able to fix him. You were able to fix me.

"But today my twin came to me. There are some serious issues going on in our family, and I need to be there for him. I need to go. I love you so much Amelia. If there was anyway, any possible way at all that I didn't have to leave, I wouldn't." I could feel Amelia shaking from what were probably carefully withheld sobs. I had tears welling up in my own eyes. Before I could back out of my sudden burst of passion, I withdrew from the embrace before kissing Amelia full on the lips. We stood there for a while like that, the only noise coming from our tears as the splashed onto the ground.

As I pulled back, I looked at her eyes for what would probably be the last time before turning away and heading to the door. I stopped only once to grab my trench coat that matched Castiel's off its hook on the coat rack. I don't look back once, leaving Amelia standing there, crying. As for me, even when I am miles away, and the day has completely succumbed to night, my vision is still slightly blurred from tears.

*CASTIEL*

Jimmy arrived a long time after we did. By that time, Bobby had been able to call up a psychic he knew that might be able to help us find out who or what brought me back from Hell. I suppressed a shudder as a few memories of Hell crossed my mind and stopped a sadistic smirk before it crossed my lips. It would probably be best if I tried not to think about it for the time being.

The woman, Pamela Barnes, had been here for a while now. We already had all of the things she needed set up. In fact, we probably could've performed the ritual hours ago, but I had insisted that we wait until Jimmy arrived. Pamela seemed fine with it, spending most of her time bantering with Bobby. She tried to banter with me too, but I'm… terrible with women.

Now that Jimmy was here, we all went down into Bobby's basement where a table was set up, candles places in the middle, a table cloth covering the surface. We all sat around the table. I cast a worried glance at Jimmy. Ever since I had left him at the apartment, he had been sad, quiet, and straight out depressed. I was willing to bet that it was about that girl in from that picture. Jimmy's smile had been so happy in the photo.

Pamela, who was sitting right next to me, turned to me. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

"I'm going to need to be touching something that our mysterious entity has touched." Pamela shot me a wink. "You got anything that might have left any residue?"

I shrugged off my overcoat, taking off my shirt underneath and revealing the handprint on my shoulder. I could almost feel Jimmy's eyes slightly wide and glued onto the mark. Pamela just smiled and placed her hand over it, closing her eyes.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." Pamela chanted over and over. I exchanged skeptical glances with Jimmy and Bobby, who both just offered me a shrug. This continued for a while, Pamela going uninterrupted, and I was starting to doubt that we would find anything when Pamela broke the chant, saying something else.

"Dean? No, sorry Dean, I don't scare that easily."

"Dean?" I asked?

"Its name. Your little friend is whispering to me, trying to get me to turn back." Pamela replied before continuing with a slightly different chant. "I conjure and command you, show me for face."

Objects around the room started to shake, their shaking becoming more pronounced as Pamela continued her chant. Bobby gave me a nervous look which I returned with one of my own.

"Maybe you should stop." Bobby suggested to Pamela, who still remained undeterred by what was going on around her.

"I've almost got it." She insisted. "I command you, show me your face. Show me your face now!"

On the last word, the shaking suddenly stopped, but there was no peace. The candles in the middle of the table flared, their flames reaching up to lick the ceiling. Pamela let out a scream and her eyes, which had been closed the entire time, opened wide, sparks coming from them and smoke curling up in gray tendrils. The flames from the candles diminished just as quickly as they had grown and Pamela collapsed off her chair. Bobby quickly sprang up and lifted her off the ground. She opened her eyes, revealing them blacked from being burned.

"I can't see." She sobbed. "I can't see."

Jimmy and I, now next to Pamela, looked at each other, minds reeling at what monster had the power to burn someone's eyes on sight.

* * *

"The hospital says that she should be okay." Bobby walked into the kitchen. It was just me and him in the house right now. Jimmy had gone for a walk just a few minutes ago, saying he needed air. I wanted to help him, give him comforting words and such, but that had never been my forte.

"Bobby, have you ever met something that can do that, burn people's eyes?" I asked. Bobby shook his head.

"I honestly have no idea. Whatever it is, what does it gain from you walking the Earth again?" I sighed and shrugged, taking a sip from a cup in my hands.

"Bobby, I've been thinking-"

"Well that's never a good thing." Bobby cut in.

"One way or another, we're going to run into this thing, whatever it is. Maybe it would be best if we met it on our own ground instead of when we're more vulnerable." I winced at the look Bobby gave me. It was a crazy idea.

"Are you suggesting that we summon it here?" I nodded and waited for Bobby to yell at me, telling me how stupid of an idea it was. All he did was run his hand down his face, taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "It burned out Pamela's eyes just because she _saw _it. Can you imagine what would happen to us from being in the same room as it?" I nodded again. "I have a shed that I'm not using for anything at the moment, we can use that."

"Really? You don't think it's a crazy idea?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice.

"Of course it's a crazy idea, ya idjit. But it's not like we have anything else we can do."

"Thanks Bobby. I think we should get started now." I got up and started for the door.

"Shouldn't we wait until Jimmy gets back?" Bobby was still sitting down. I stopped and looked back at him.

"If he doesn't get here it time, then we're doing it without him."

*JIMMY*

The stars were gleaming brilliantly above me. They sparkled and shined. In all my time alive, that stars had always looked the same. Absentmindedly, I started to pick out the constellations that my adopted father had taught me when I was little. There were some nights, when we were miles away from any hotel or civilization. When they were forced to sleep in his dad's old mustang. His dad would take him outside, and the stars were able to shine brighter than they ever would be able to in a city.

It had been on a night, much similar to those, to this one, that Jimmy had been flipping through his dad's journal. His dad was touchy about his journal, had a thing about other people touching it. Especially when it came to the pages in the back, the pages filled with information on the Yellow-Eyes-Demon.

I had been 17, almost 18, why I had snuck it from under dad's pillow and been reading it. I did this often, actually, and I'm pretty sure my dad knew about it, but he never said anything about it as long as I never talked about it. I was going over what I always read. How to kill wendigos, dad's first hunt, how he adopted me, the usual. I had never read the back pages, never had the guts to really, worried that somehow, someway, dad would sense me reading it and wake up, angry. Not that my dad got angry often, he only got angry during training and cases.

Finally, though, I was tired of the old words that I had practically memorized. Taking a deep breath, I flipped to the back and into the information on the Yellow-Eyed demon. There were the things I already knew, the signs that dad was constantly on the lookout for. I came across some pages in nearly perfect condition, like even dad hadn't touched them before.

It was about the house fires.

I, of course, knew about the house fires. The Yellow-Eyed demon seemed to have a thing about burning mothers on the ceiling of their 6 months room. The mom had yet to make it out of the fire. The baby always got out. Sometimes the dad would get out too, or he would die running back in to save his wife.

There was a list of pages, listing house burnings that could be related to it. The list looked something like this:

_Andrew Galligher-6 months old_

_Mother-Dead_

_Father-Alive_

_Max Miller-6 months old_

_Mother-Dead_

_Father-Alive_

So on and so forth. I was mostly just skimming them, planning to read them more in depth on a different sleepless night, which I seemed to have more and more of lately, when one of the lists caught my eyes. As I read it, my heart frozen, my eyes couldn't take themselves off of the writing, my mind started moving a hundred miles an hour while at the same time stopping all think altogether.

_James and Castiel Novak-6 months old_

_Mother-Dead_

_Father-Dead_

This wasn't some 'surprise, you're adopted!' moment. I knew I was adopted. In fact, I had always preferred to go by the last name Novak rather than Murphy. I wasn't even the fact that, hey, I was visited by old YED myself when I was a kid. No, the thing that caught my eye was the Castiel part.

But, it's not like dad wouldn't tell me if I had a twin, right? I'm sure that he wouldn't keep something like that away from me. No, no, I must have read wrong.

_James and Castiel Novak_

And I wouldn't I feel like something was missing? I had met plenty of twins while taking jobs. They all say that they're lost without each other. Okay, so yeah, I don't like to be alone, and sometimes I would imagine what it was like to have a brother or sister. And sometimes one of the reasons I would stay up is because I feel like something is wrong, something has been missing from me, but that can mean anything. Right?

_James and Castiel Novak_

Reading that one last time, I grabbed my keys off the table, wrote a note to my dad telling him what I now knew and where I was going, and silently left out the door on a mission to find my twin.

As strange as it may seem, that was one of my favorite memories, and as I lied on the cool grass, eyes closed but facing the stars, I let it run through my head, again and again. And for a minute, everything was right again. Everything was okay, even if Amelia wasn't here. I had lived this life once, I could like it again.

"you know, letting your guard down like this will get you killed."

At the female voice, I jumped to my feet, my moment of peace shattered. I pulled out a gun from my back pocket, aiming at the woman. She was standing a few feet away. She had long, curly black hair and brown eyes. She wore a deeper-red shirt with a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and black boots.

"Christo." I murmured automatically, and sure enough her eyes became pure black. Even though the logical part of me was saying it wouldn't do anything, I still put a bullet in her temple. Her head was thrown backwards, but besides that she was completely unperturbed.

"Hey, is that any way to treat an old friend?" The girl crossed her arms.

"Ruby?" I straightened out of my offensive position. "You're alive?" Ruby nodded.

"I would say in the flesh but…" Ruby shrugged, smirking. "We both know that isn't quite true."

"Why are you only contacting me now? It's been four months "

"Hey, I left signs for you, but you were too focused on kissing some civilian to notice them." I felt my cheeks heat up. "But I'm not here to tease you. I'm here to help you."

"Because you turned out to be _so _helpful last time."

"You try going up against Lilith and see how well you come out."

"That's the plan. And I'll undoubtedly come out better then you since her powers don't affect me."

"Well I know a sure-fire way you can kill her once and for all. All it requires is a bit of… this." Ruby dragged one of her nails across her wrist, droplets of blood filling the slit.

"Demon blood?!" I took a step back from her as I realized what she wanted me to do.

"Your powers aren't strong enough now. They've barely even been used. A little bit of this and I swear your power will skyrocket. You'll still need to practice…" Her voice trailed a bit. "This is the only way you'll be able to kill Lilith. Believe me when I say the knife won't work."

I remained silent, and she pressed on.

"Who knows, she might even try to take back what's 'rightfully' hers. Rumor has it that Castiel was tortured daily down in Hell."

"Fine." I gave in, though a part of me still screamed that this was wrong. "I'll do it."

*CASTIEL*

I rechecked the weapons we had laid out on several tables. Silver bullets, rock salt shells, an assortment of guns. A multitude o knives, all made of different materials, sat in nice, neat rows. I held Ruby's knife in my hand, ready for action. Taking a look behind me, I saw Bobby had covered nearly every inch of the shed we were in with different symbols. A demon's trap was set right in front of the door.

"You ready?" Bobby asked, having just finished up his last symbol.

"As ready as we can be." I said with a nod. Bobby came over to where we had the supplies ready and started the summoning ritual. After he finished, we both looked around, expecting something to happen, something to appear and suddenly attack us. Although in retrospect, that probably wasn't the brightest idea considering that this thing supposedly burned your eyes out on sight.

Nothing happened. In fact, nothing happened for an hour. Bobby and I stayed in the shed the entire time. Part of me was glad that nothing had come, and another part was sorely disappointed. Just when I figured it'd be best if we called it a night, the roof started to rattle. I looked at Bobby who nodded, both of us picked a gun off the table (we had long since put down the ones we had been holding).

The doors to the shed burst open, a figure stepping in. For a moment, he was obscured as the lights on the ceiling burst, sparks raining down. He stalked towards us, passing right through the demon's trap, undeterred by the bullets that we were pelting him with. He only stopped when he was 2 feet away from us. I took this moment to stab the knife into where the creatures heart should be.

The man (or at least male-looking creature) gave me a half-amused look and calmly lifted his hand to the blade, easily pulling it out of his chest and tossing it onto one of the tables.

The man standing before us had blonde-brown hair and vibrant green eyes. He wore a old, worn, brown jacket, a plaid button-up underneath that, and beneath it all was a simple black shirt. A necklace sat around his neck, resting easily on his chest. He wore darn jeans and sturdy shoes.

"Who are you?" I took a step back as I said this, a bit of fear tugging at me.

"You're the ones that summoned me. You should I know." He answered. I noticed him open and close his hands, smiling slightly as he did so, like he enjoyed the sensation. Bobby started to bring down a pipe on the man, but he easily caught it with his hand, grabbing it out of Bobby's and throwing it to the front of the shed.

"Dean." He nodded at his name and walked over to one of the tables, picking up one of the guns. Dean inspected the Winchester rifle, turning it this way and that, fingering the trigger and seeing how it fit in his grip.

"What are you?" Bobby asked slightly impatiently, grabbing the rifle out of Dean's hands and placing it back on the table. Dean smirked at the question.

"An angel of the Lord." Lightning flashed through the windows, lighting up the dark and shed, casting large shadows on the wall. On the back of Dean's shadow, two large shapes that looked distinctly like wings were stretched out, with what looked like feathers on the ends.

I had grown up in a strict-religion family. I had heard about angels. When I was young, I had even dreamed about being visited by angels, imagining them coming for me. But I had given up the fantasy years ago. I was even on the edge of placing it on my crap list.

"And a tired angel at that." Dean gave a yawn. "Got anywhere I can sleep?"

"We have the couch, but that's all." I replied, but Bobby nudged me in disapproval. "What?"

"We have no idea if this thing-"

"Dean." Dean interrupted.

"- is what he says he is, much less if we can trust him!" Bobby pushed through Dean's comment.

"A good decision, really." Dean commented, nodding as he started to inspect a hand-gun, which Bobby promptly took. "But might I remind you that it was _you _two that summoned me here. Might as well let me spend the night, rest up."

Dean didn't even wait for a reply, leaving the shed just as quickly as he came. Bobby and I packed up our things and went back to our place, where we found Dean passed out on the couch, snoring. Bobby headed to bed after that, murmuring about hoping this was some nightmare, and I went to the guest bedroom where Jimmy was asleep on his own bed. I climbed into mine, my last intelligent though being that our lives just became 10x more screwed in the last 48 hours.


	3. Chapter 3

** : Before I start this next chapter, I just want to say that I really love you Reynard for reviewing. Thank you so much… mostly since you're the only one that's reviewed.**

*CASTIEL*

I dreamed.

Well, I dreamed of a memory.

It was the day I met Jimmy.

I had been sitting on the couch, reading the Bible for about the 9th time that year. I knew it's stories by heart at this time in my life. Being raised in a highly-religious family, I had had little, almost no contact with the 'real' world. And the 'real' world didn't try to contact me. It was like some mutual understanding between us.

I had been even more sheltered than most kids though. Then again, many of the people, priests mostly, had told me that I wasn't a normal person. I was destined for great things they said. Some even called me 'The Righteous Man', though I never understood why. I was often teased with the title by others, the few 'real' world people that I met and knew who I was.

Anyways, I had been a few verses from the end of Luke, all alone in the house, when there was a knock at the door, followed by the doorbell. I got up from my comfortable position on the couch and went to the door. Nobody even came to my house, unless they were from church. Even then, considerable few came. I opened the door, curious.

Standing outside was myself.

I slammed the door in my face.

The man that looked like me knocked again.

I opened the door slower this time, and the man on the other side still held my features. Same vibrant blue eyes, same dark hair, same facial structures, everything mirroring mine completely. The might have even been a mirror or something in front of me if the man hadn't been wearing such casual clothes under a tan trench coat and his body language so drastically different from my rigid pose.

"Who are you?" The man gave a shaky grin at my question.

"I'm, ah, I'm your brother. Twin, actually." His voice was a bit higher than mine, a bit more laid back. "Can I come in?"

"I nodded, and he went to the couch, where he told his tale. How we were adopted into different families. He told me that his name was James Novak, and that I could call him Jimmy. He explained, after repeatedly begging me not to call an asylum, how monsters are real. James explained that he and his dad hunted them, and yet again said that no, he was not crazy. James said that he hadn't known that he's had a brother until just a few days ago.

I told him that, while it was nice to meet him, I didn't see how this information would change my life. James seemed a little put out, but nodded at my answer. He wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to me, and I put it in my pocket. Said to call him if anything weird starting happening, that he was always looking for a case. I thought that would be it.

Until later, when I woke up in the middle of the night to find my adopted mother bleeding a burning on the ceiling. My dad had to drag me out of the house, as I was paralyzed from fear and shock. While the fire trucks did their best to put out the fire, my mind trying to sort through what had just happened to me, what I had just seen. My neighbors let my dad and I stay at their house for the night. When they went back to sleep and my dad was snoring on the couch, I went over to their phone and picked it up, dialing my brothers number for the first time in many times. I had memorized it, just in case, when I had gotten it.

"Hello?" James' voice crackled on the other side of the line.

"It's Castiel."

"You called! I didn't think you would call. I mean, honestly I didn't think you'd ever call. After all, there weren't any monsters there when I did a bit of research on where you lived. The only reason I can think of as to _why _you'd call so soon is if something bad happened, but that's just stupid. Right?" The last word was said uncertainly and by a man who obviously knew that something bad always happened, and that it wasn't just stupid.

"My house. It burned down. My mom's dead."

"Cas…" The nickname sounded right for some reason.

"I'll go with you." My mind was made up. I was going to do something with my life. "If you came and I get me, I'll come."

"I'll be there ASAP." The line went dead and I sat it back down. The only thing I could think about at that moment was more of a wonder: what did ASAP mean?

* * *

I was eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen the next morning. Dean was still passed out when I woke up, stil on the couch. Which means it wasn't a dream after all. A few minutes after me, Jimmy came down, still drowsy.

"Hey Cas?"

"Hm?"

"Are you aware there's a man on the couch?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Jimmy grabbed a piece of bread from the fridge, buttering it and coving that with jam. After a little while of silence, he spoke up again. "Who is he?"

"Dean." This caught Jimmy's attention.

"Dean, as is _the _Dean? Pull-you-out-of-Hell-blind-Pamela Dean?"

"Yes."

"What's he doing on the Bobby's couch? Why are you so okay with this? Why haven't my eyes already burned out?" Jimmy was wide awake now.

"We summoned him last night while you were gone. I don't really know why our eyes aren't burning out, but I wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth if I were you."

"Did you find out what he is?"

"He says he's an angel of the lord."

"No way?" Jimmy's eyes went wide. "But, those don't exist, right? If there were angels, we would know, right? Or at least someone would know."

"The lore does check out." Bobby entered the room. "Last night I did some research on angels, and according to the lore, they _can _pull a soul out of Hell. I still don't think that thing's trustworthy though, angel or not."

"Well too bad, because I don't give a crap what you think of me." Dean chose that moment to enter, stretching and grinning. "That was the first time I've slept in ages!"

"What, don't you sleep on beds of clouds and stars?" Jimmy mocked, licking jelly form his fingers.

"Okay, truth time: I technically don't need to sleep. My 'brothers' also say I don't need sustenance." Dean made air quotation on the brother. "But finding a way to make me care less about what they think would be quite the trick." With that, Dean opened up the fridge.

"Hey, how come we're not burning up in your presence?" Jimmy asked, and I gave a mental sigh. What did I just tell him? But I had to admit I was curious as to why my skin and eyes were still intact and unharmed.

"Hello, meat suit!" Dean gestured to himself with one hand, using the other to take out a bottle of ketchup, squirt some in his mouth, and put it away. "My skin sweater. You guys are lucky for that; my Grace can get pretty destructive. My voice too, but you saw that 1st hand, didn't you Cas?"

"At the gas station, that horrid screeching sound, that was you? That was you talking?" I said, recounting the horrible sound.

"Bingo." Dean pulled out a half-eaten pie from the fridge. Whether his words were for me or his find, I don't know.

"So then do you possess some poor civilian?" Jimmy watched as Dean brought the pie to the table, setting it down in front of him, experimentally sniffing it.

"Nah, most angels would probably have to find their vessel or something, but not me." Dean jabbed a finger into the pie, running it through the blueberry filling and sticking it in his mouth with a serious and judging look on his face.

"What makes you so special?" Bobby was obviously still cautious about the angel, and Jimmy seemed to have similar feelings. Even I had to admit that it was a bit strange, but if Hell and demons existed, why couldn't Heaven and angels?

Instead of answering, Dean grinned and dug his hands into the pie, taking out a chunk and shoving it into his mouth, making satisfied sounds.

"Uh, aren't you going to use a fork?" I voiced all of our thoughts. Dean blinked at me, gooey hands frozen in the middle of his second scoop.

"Those are…" Dean's voice trailed off. After a few seconds filled with a drawn out 'are', his eyes lit up. "Those pitchfork thingies! Shovels for food, right?"

"Yeah, don't you want to use one?" Dean contemplated my suggestion before taking his hands out of his food.

"Fine, I gotta blend in anyway." He then took up the task of licking his hands clean while I grabbed a fork from the utensil drawer.

Dean nodded in thanks and took the offered fork, holding it like a dagger and stabbing it into the pie. Jimmy gave a muffled chuckle, causing Dean to galre at him.

"What, you guys insisted I use this!" Dean lifted the fork out, a large piece of pie balancing precariously on his fork before being shoved into his mouth. As Dean pulled it out, his teeth dragged across the metal, and Dean looked at it with distaste. "I really don't see the appeal."

"Well, you're supposed to hold it like this." I took the fork form his hand and demonstrated how to hold it. "And you're supposed to use your lips, not your teeth." I handed the fork back to Dean.

Who promptly threw it at the still giggling Jimmy, missing his head by centimeters. That shut him up.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with my hands." With that, the angel continued his feast.

Life had really taken quite an interesting turn.

After breakfast, our heavenly friend wandered off into Bobby's piles of junk and cars. We had spent the majority of the day while he was gone searching deeper into angel lore, trying to separate fact from fiction.

It is now 6:30 p.m. and dinner is made. We have all decided that Dean has either left or is lost. We think the latter is most likely.

"Since when did I start running a day-care for angels?" Bobby grumbled as we made our way past piles of cars, the low hanging sun casting lost shadows across the ground. I ignored his comment, keeping my eyes open for Dean. Dinner was bound to be getting cold by now, and since homemade meals were often hard to come by for a Hunter, it was really something I didn't want to pass up.

"Dean!" Jimmy yelled, and once again there was no response. Sighing, we continued our search party. And then, after another few minute of futile searching, we heard him.

There was the sound of metal hitting the ground and a loud curse broke the silence of the yard. We found Dean around an old van, its hood up and pieces of it lying on the ground. He was sporting a large gash on his arm and a piece of metal on the ground was smeared red with blood. As we watched, the gash closed up until there was only an angry red line where it had been. That promptly turned pink, then white, before vanishing altogether.

"Dean!" I called, and he looked up and grinned.

"Hey guys!" Dean waved us over. "What's up? Well, besides the sky, space, and Heaven."

"You've been out here all day. We were worried you got lost. It's 6:45, and you don't really hit me as the type to skip out on meals."

"Thanks for that, I do love food. Maybe I should get one of those phone things… I was lost at first, but I have my ways to get back to your place. But then, just as I was about to head back, I saw _her." _ Dean let out a lovesick sigh. I exchanged looks with Bobby and Jimmy. Who was here that we didn't know about, and what did she have to do with the car? "She was so beat up and broken, but I can see just how beautiful she is beneath that dust and dirt." Another sigh.

"Can we meet this gorgeous stranger?" Jimmy asked Dean, who nodded and led the way through the piles of cars.

"Hey there Baby!" Dean called and ran over to a twisted and broken car.

"She's… a car." I said carefully, sure I missed something somewhere.

"Not just 'a car'," Dean grinned, patting the heap of metal. "Baby's a 1987 Chevy Impala."

"What was that other car back there then? Cheating on her?"

"Oh Uncle Bobby, you wound me. Of course not. I can't fix Baby without knowing how cars work. Consider that van research." Bobby tensed at the use of 'Uncle' by a guy he met yesterday.

"Well, you have fun with that." Jimmy started backing away. "We humans do need to eat, and the steak's getting cold."

"Okay, I'll come and pick up some leftover or something later." Dean waved good bye to us as we headed back to the house. An angel that's a car guy. I still don't think I've seen everything, but I'm pretty sure I'm getting close.

*JIMMY*

My hair stuck up at an odd angle as I entered the kitchen, but I really don't care. It was morning. I was tired. And we still didn't know what to do with our angel problem. I grabbed a bowl and poured myself some cereal. By the time I was nearly done eating it, Cas was down, quickly followed by Bobby.

"Up before me for once." Castiel nudged me as he went over to the fridge. I imagined that his eyes, like mine, found the empty spot where the ¼ of pie had been last night.

"Have you seen Dean at all?" Bobby asked, and I shook my head.

"I think he's been out there demolishing that car all night. Came in to grab the rest of the pie, but it looks like that's it."

"He did say he doesn't need sleep." Castiel pointed out. Before anymore could be said on the subject of Dean, Bobby's phone rang.

"Hello? Hey, how's it been? She's what?! I haven't heard anything. I will. You too. Bye." Cas and I watched Bobby expectantly as he hung up the phone, face dark and sad.

"What was that?" Castiel pressed when Bobby remained silent.

"A friend of mine. A Hunter was killed in her house not too far from here, and the others in the area aren't answering their calls." I could almost see the gears in Bobby's head working.

"We can go check some of these people who aren't responding." Castiel offered.

"You stay here and see if you can find out when we're dealing with." I agreed.

"Okay, but be quick. Whatever got them is targeting Hunters. That much is obvious. And you two are Hunters."

"So are you." Castiel countered.

"Keep an eye out for yourself. I have Cas, But you'll be alone." I pointed out.

"Be quick then." Bobby replied, throwing a comb at me. "And brush your hair."

"'Kay mom." And on that note, Castiel and I took our leave… only to come back a few seconds later for a list of the addresses.

Castiel and I were on our way back when I called Bobby, telling him what we found.

"Well?"

"They've all redecorated. In red, that is. All of them were dead. "Bobby swore.

"I haven't had any luck so far. How did they die?"

"Bloodily. They were all just these gruesome piles of flesh."

"Well, come back here. If anything we can take every precaution we can."

"We'll be there soon." I ended the call. "Bobby's got nothing. We're planning to hole up there." I quickly explained to Cas, who was driving.

"First we need more gas. We have enough to make it back to Bobby's but if we end up needing to make a run for it, I want to not have to worry about running out of gas."

"Sounds like a plan." I nodded. A few minutes later we pulled up to a gas station. I got out of the car while Cas filled it up, planning to buy some snacks while I was out.

There was no one at the cash register, but I figured he was just off behind the counter or something. I started to browse through the aisles, picking out some sunflower seeds and beef jerky. I was deciding between two different flavors of popcorn (white cheddar, and old favorite, and cheesy nacho, a new flavor) when I breathed, and my breath was visible in the suddenly cold air.

My hand flew to the handgun hidden in my overcoat. I turned in a slow circle, watching for any sign of aggression from anything. Standing not four feet away from was a familiar face. One that I had been told was dead. It had been on the TV. He had blown up.

"Hello, Novak."

"Hendrickson?"

"Yes, it's me, and no, I didn't make it." Spite and anger laced the dead FBI's voice.

"I'm… sorry." I tried and failed to settle the ghost.

"Sorry? Sorry cannot begin to make up for what happened. Do you think that we just died in a blast of light, in a quick explosion? Lilith wanted to have fun first. You remember the virgin? Lilith started with her, burning her skin off, piece by piece. Her screams echoed up and down the halls of that police station."

The entire time he talked, Hendrickson slowly drew closer, until he was half an arm's length away. Then, taking me by surprise, he lifted his hands and quickly fastened them around my neck, his fingers digging tightly into my neck, cutting off my oxygen. I clawed at his hands and struggled against him, but it was to no avail.

Just as spots were starting to dance in front of my eyes, a gunshot ringing through the store and Hendrickson disappeared. I turned and saw a man standing behind the counter, the gun his hands being lowered.

"I don't like ghosts in my store." The man put the gun behind the counter and walked over to where I lay on the ground (I had collapsed after Hendrickson had vanished). I grabbed his offered hand and he hauled me to my feet.

"Are you a Hunter?" The man shook his head.

"No, but I had an infestation here a while back, if you know what I mean. Always keep some rock salt around ever since." I nodded in understanding.

"Thanks." One awkward moment later. "Ah, um, can I buy these?" I gestured to the pile of things I had dropped to the ground. A few minutes later, I was back in the car with some snacks and a free box of salt, recounting what had happened to Castiel.

The sun was a bit farther then halfway through the sky by the time we got back to Bobby's. The house was quiet and deserted. Bobby was no where to be seen. I didn't just grab the gun in my trench coat, I pulled it out, ready for anything hostile to attack at any moment.

"I'll check the yard, you search the house." Castiel nodded, and we took our separate ways.

He was out here; I knew he was out here. My gut was screaming at me that he was out here, and that if I didn't find him soon, he would be joining the growing list of Hunters killed by this thing.

"Bobby!" I called, opening trunks of random cars. Gosh Bobby, why do you have so many! My guts scream was now becoming a roar, but I was no closer to finding Bobby then I was when I started. A figure suddenly burst onto the scene, charging for a large truck I had noticed but not truly taken not of. Dean, as I now recognized the man as, threw open the door, throwing a piece of iron in as he did so. I ran over just in time to see a small girl ghost disappear as the piece of metal ran through her.

"You okay Bobby?" Dean asked as Bobby climbed out of the truck.

"Just peachy."

"Bobby, those ghosts, who were they?" Bobby's eyes got a sad and far away look in them, and I almost told him to forget about it.

"They, they're from a job I did a while back. I couldn't save them." Bobby's answer was short, and he didn't look like he was willing to elaborate.

"Are they haunting you?" Bobby just gave a shrug. "Because I think I might be being haunted too!" I recounted my run in with Victor Hendrickson.

Dean had a thoughtful look on his face, eyes serious for the first time since I met him (admittedly, that's 1 ½ days).

"Something's not right." I heard him mutter. "Get to Cas. Now."

"Why, is something wrong?" Dean cast me an annoyed look, rubbing his hand down his face.

"We don't have time for this!" His voice didn't really get louder, but it was more firm, stronger, a slight growl in it. Dean took off to the house, leaving us to follow behind, questions still unanswered.

*CASTIEL*

I carefully crept around the house, trying desperately to find the man who had become my father figure in a matter of 9 years. So far, I had found no sign of the older Hunter. As I stealthily turned a corner, my footsteps light and making no sound, gun aimed steadily in front of me, I saw a female figure at the end of the hall. Although I don't think I made too much noise, she turned around to face me, and I nearly dropped my gun my surprise.

"Hi Cas. Put that gun down. I'm not a demon." Meg Masters took a step towards me and I shifted my gun. Her hair was longer than I remember it being, but for the most part she looked the same. "I'm the girl who the demon was possessing. The one that you let_ die, _the one that you threw off a _building."_

"I, I'm sorry, but-"

"But you couldn't see the girl underneath that cold demon? Well I was there the entire time, screaming for help. But nobody could hear me. Not ever you. So I continued my torturous living." Meg flicked her hand to the side and my gun fly out of my hands. Another gesture and I flew to the ground. She went over to me and, before I could get back up, stomped on my stomach, the air in my lungs leaving me. She then started to kick at me mercilessly. I could do nothing but groan in pain.

Just as Meg's leg was coming down for another kick, one that looked like it would cause my rigs to finally give, a shot rang out and she disappeared. Groaning a bit in pain, I climbed to my feet as Bobby, Jimmy, and Dean rushed over to me.

"C'mon, it's not safe here." Dean gave Bobby a 'no-freaking-duh' look and we followed Bobby into his basement and to a large door. He unlocked it and revealed a circular room, different anti-demon symbols everywhere.

"Whoa." I breathed out, and Bobby nodded proudly, closing the door behind them.

"Solid iron soaked in salt water. Completely ghost and demon proof." Bobby explained, gesturing to the walls.

"you made a panic room?" Jimmy's voice was filled with wonder, and a slight laugh.

"I had a weekend off." Bobby replied defensively.

"Bobby, you're awesome." Dean grinned.

"So, first things first: what are we up against?" I asked, walking over to one of the books, flipping it randomly as if it would magically open to the page we needed.

"I think I might know." We all looked at Dean. "You have all seen one, right?" We all nodded. "Did any of you see a mark on them, like brand or something?" Dean grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a symbol. "It would have looked something like this?"

"Yeah, it was on Meg's wrist." I replied, recognizing the mark.

"I saw that mark on Hendrickson's wrist." Jimmy added. Dean's face grew grim. He threw the pad of paper against the wall angrily, looking like he was absolutely fuming. "Why, what it it."

"It's the mark of the witnesses. You've probably never heard of it. In a nutshell, a strong force woke up a bunch of people who died when they weren't supposed to, who had to rise and face the war when it wasn't their time. They are called the witnesses. Waking up the witnesses is the one of the seals." Dean explained.

"Seals? Seals to what?" I asked.

"There are six-hundred something seals in the world. When sixty-six of these seals are broken, Lucifer's cage opens up and he walks out. Well, more like glides or flies out, maybe explodes his way out, but you get the idea."

"Wait, Lucifer, as in _the _Lucifer?" Jimmy asked, eyes wide in surprise and slightly horror.

"No, Lucifer Collins, I hear that he was great with kids. Of course it's the Lucifer!" Dean sounded a bit exasperated. "Now, we don't have a lot of time. The longer these witnesses are out and wrecking havoc, the fewer Hunters will be alive to help us fight in the upcoming war. And there will be a war." Dean said with absolute conviction.

"So, then what? Is there some way to get rid of them or something?" I asked.

"There's a spell, and spell that sends them back to rest. Give me a moment…" Dean grabbed the notepad off the floor and picked up the pen, scribbling furiously down notes on what ingredients they needed and what needed to be done. Dean gave it a look-over before handing it to Bobby who looked it over himself and gave a sigh of relief.

"I have all these things. The only problem will be the fireplace."

"Great, so we can't do it in the ghost-proof room where we don't need to worry about being killed by people we failed to save." Jimmy looked longingly at the wall of the panic room.

"Dean, is there anything else you know?" Bobby gave Dean a sort of curious look. Dean shook his head, like he was trying to get rid of a thought.

"Nothing that matters. This whole thing brings back some pretty back nightmares. Let's get this done with."

Our group moved to the stairs, and at the top sat a figure. I didn't recognize the girl, and it looked like Jimmy and Bobby didn't either. She had long, blonde, slightly curly hair and brown eyes. Her face was quite beautiful, and I imagined if she was smiling-which she wasn't-it would be dazzling. The girl, who looked to be in her twentys, was wearing nothing more than a white dress. Across the middle of the dress was a bloody, scarlet stain.

Next to me, Dean tensed up. His eyes stared at the girl with sadness and a strange longing. Not the type of longing like you want it, but the type of longing when you want something for someone else. This was his witness. A peek at what type of skeletons were hidden away in his celestial closet.

"Dean." She spoke, her voice soft, no emotion in it.

"Jessica." He took a step forward. The gun we had given him looked forgotten, limp and useless by his side.

"How could you? You took Sam away from me when he needed to be there most. I _died _because of your 'need' for him. But that wasn't enough. You had to do worse. All you do is ruin everything you touch. When he came home and found me bleeding, _burning _on the ceiling you were the one who dragged Sam away. You let me burn and die!" Jessica's voice had crescendo while she was talking. A crack rang through the air as a bullet pierced her, banishing her for the moment.

"I didn't give you a gun so you could become useless on 10 different levels." Bobby snapped at Dean. "Now let's get going."

"Yessir." Dean replied, the weakness that had shown through a few seconds ago hardening. Our group continued on our way, moving up the stairs and into the 'living room', the only room that had a fire. He set up base, putting a circle of salt around the area we would be working in. Bobby set up the basic things that we needed to perform the spell, the things we already had, and turned to us.

"Okay. Dean, you're going to stay here and keep the ghosts away from me while I work. Jimmy, do you remember the closet up stairs that I always told you not to go into?" Jimmy nodded. "Go in. On the third shelf from the top, you should find a small, metal box. If it's heavier than it looks, that's the right one." Jimmy nodded again and headed out. "Castiel, go into the kitchen. There's a row of drawers right next to the dishwasher. The one second from the top has a false bottom. Inside is a red-brown liquid. Grab that."

I headed into the kitchen, gun in hand, nerves on end and watchful for any supernatural activity. I was able to get to the kitchen and get the small vial out of the drawer's false bottom. As I straightened back up, though, I was greeted by Victor Hendrickson. He smiled coldly at me and stuck his hand through my chest. His hand only seemed to become solid when it reached my heart, which it grabbed and started to squeeze. I gasped for air that I suddenly seemed unable to get. Before that darkness clawing at the edges of my vision over took me, however, Hendrickson was banished by a bullet.

I was able to stay on my feet, though I was holding onto the counter for support. I also said a silent prayer to whoever was looking after me that I hadn't dropped the vial that was still in my hand. Jimmy was at my side, grabbing my arms and helping balance me back out.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good." Together we headed back into the living room, arriving just in time to see Dean get the two little girls through the head with one shot. He nodded at us instead of giving a greeting, and we placed our things next to Bobby. Things went fairly well for a while as Jimmy, Dean and I just shot at the witnesses as they came up. Of course, nothing could have stayed that easy for long. Eventually, they broke the salt line. That's when we really started to shoot.

Bobby was nearing the end of the spell, but not quickly enough. We were running out of ammo. At this rate, we would run out in about… 1, 2 minutes? Probably less. But we were keeping them at bay for the moment, and that was all we could hope for. Just as I got a headshot on Jess, I heard a muffled grunt from Bobby as he stopped the incantation. I turned and looked to find Meg standing in front of Bobby, her hand through his chest like Hendrickson had done to me. I was unable to do anything as the bowl of ingredients fell to the ground… and Dean managed to catch it, throwing it in the fire. A bright light spread from the fire place, and as it hit each ghost they disappeared. Bobby was gasping for air, and we all looked at each other silently. The silence was eventually broken by Dean.

"I'm batman."


End file.
